


Wake Up In Flames

by IllBeRightBack



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band), Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: M/M, Toilet Boy Trent, Toilet Slave, Watersports, i dont care if you didnt want it YOU GOT IT, so im doing this again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllBeRightBack/pseuds/IllBeRightBack
Summary: “Get’s easier the more you do it,” Manson said as if nothing was out of the ordinary.Trent coughed a little, water dripping from his hair and the tip of his nose. He was gasping for breath again.“No more… Please… I’ll be good,” Trent nearly sobbed. He coughed again, but not too much to be concerning.-or-More toilet boy Trent, yay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Marina, oh my god, this is trash. Hope you like it.
> 
> I swear to god if I get another shitty anon about this on Tumblr I'm going to scream.
> 
> Title from the NIN song "Gave Up" because I had it on repeat the whole time I was writing this.

Manson wrenched Trent’s head back up out of the water by his neck. He was gasping for air, but it was really all for show. Manson had only held his head in the toilet for a few seconds.

“Are you gonna be a good boy?” Manson whispered, threatening dominance underlining his tone.

“Mhmm,” Trent whimpered submissively.

Manson breathed a little laugh, “You’re pathetic, love.”

He grabbed the cuffs from his back pocket and chained Trent’s left hand to the pipe behind the toilet.

“You’re lucky I decided to do this at the hotel… I could’ve done this at that dirty venue,” Manson said, moving a few strands of wet hair out of Trent’s face.

“Thank you,” Trent said, voice shaking a little.

“It’s far from over, sweetheart. Turn, arms on the seat… You know what I want.”

He did as he was told, kneeling and putting his arms on the toilet seat, arching his back to display his ass and pulling his pants down to his knees.

Manson had left to retrieve the crop from the bedroom. When he returned, Trent looked deliciously vulnerable.

“Maybe if you behave I’ll let you cum, huh?” Manson teased, running a gentle hand over his bare ass.

Trent nodded quickly, eliciting another low, predatory laugh from the other man. He raised his arm and swung the crop, creating a satisfying thwak sound. Trent gasped a little, knuckles white, clenching the toilet bowl with one hand.

Another swing. Manson could see a pleasant shade of red begin to taint Trent’s pale skin where the leather had made contact.

Another swing.

“Fuck,” Trent said, voice shaking and needy.

Manson could see his toes curling, desperate for more punishment. He saw this as his opportunity to torture him even more. He ran the smooth end of the crop over his reddening skin teasingly and Trent shuddered.

“Please,” He choked out, head resting on his arm against the toilet seat now.

“You’ll get what I fucking give you,” Manson said, soft tone not matching his words. That just made him all the more menacing.

Another swing, harder than before this time and Trent gasped out a little moan.

Manson tortured him like this for a little while longer before he decided that the redness on Trent’s porcelain skin indicated it was time to move on to something else.

Manson ran a gentle hand over the irritated flesh, “Good boy,” He cooed lovingly. 

Trent was panting heavily, head still down. He thought he knew what would be next, if Manson was following his regular routine… But, apparently, he wasn’t. 

He pulled Trent’s head up by his hair, making a hiss of pain rise from the submissive. Manson forced his head back into the water as he grinded himself up against Trent’s exposed ass. He let out a little groan and lifted his head back out of the water roughly.

“Get’s easier the more you do it,” Manson said as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Trent coughed a little, water dripping from his hair and the tip of his nose. He was gasping for breath again.

“No more… Please… I’ll be good,” Trent nearly sobbed. He coughed again, but not too much to be concerning.

“You beg so pretty,” Manson mused, running a hand up Trent’s back underneath his shirt.

“No more,” He repeated, still breathing heavily.

“I won’t, baby… If you promise you’ll behave.”

“I will.”

Manson chuckled a little, grabbing Trent by the shoulders and positioning him so his chest and cheek were resting on the toilet seat. Now he knew what came next.

“You want it?” Manson asked, raising a non-existent eyebrow as he looked down. He was unzipping his leather pants now and pulling out his dick.

“Want it,” Trent almost groaned.

“How do we ask?” Manson scolded a little.

“Please…” Trent breathed.

“Good boy,” He smiled sadistically and positioned himself over top of Trent.

The submissive closed his eyes and let out a soft groan as he felt the warm liquid hit his back and soak his t-shirt.

Manson continued his praise from above, but Trent was so worked up he couldn’t focus on the words spilling out of his mouth. He could feel the liquid dripping down his sides and onto the toilet and floor beneath him.

He let out a little whine of disappointment when the stream slowed to a trickle and then ceased altogether.

“More,” Trent begged.

“That’s all I got, baby… but you can clean up for me,” Manson said, tucking himself back into his pants.

Trent knew what he was supposed to do now, but, being the disobedient submissive that he knew Manson loved to punish, he reached for the rag on the floor behind him.

Manson delivered a harsh slap to his face, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He asked softly, crouching next to Trent.

“Cleaning up…” Trent said, rubbing at the side of his face.

“I didn’t say you could use a cloth,” Manson sighed, “Do I need to put your head under again so you learn?” he said, talking more to himself than the other man.

“NO.”

“Not asking your permission,” Manson said shortly. 

Before Trent could protest, Manson had grabbed him by the hair again and shoved his face into the now-yellow water. He struggled for a few seconds before Manson wrenched him back up, Trent wincing at the pain in his neck.

“I’ll ask you one more time… Are you gonna be a good boy?” Manson whispered, face close to Trent’s ear.

“Yes,” Trent answered. He sounded completely broken down now.

“Good… Now clean up… Properly,” Manson said, emphasizing the last word with a little shove to the back of Trent’s head as he released his hair.

“What do I use?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Manson just snickered a little at him. He reached his hand forward, forcing his fingers past Trent’s lips and tugging his tongue out of his mouth a little.

“You know what to use,” Manson answered, releasing his tongue and standing back up to watch him work.

Trent exhaled a little before bowing his head and laving his tongue over the toilet seat. He tried not to cringe too much, as this would likely result in another soaking. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t actually like the taste a little bit.

“Get it all,” Manson guided from above.

Trent closed his eyes and licked shamelessly at the toilet seat until it was all clean.

“Perfect,” he praised, “Look at me.”

Trent turned his head up to catch his eyes. They were seemingly soft, but he knew there was a storm brewing behind them.

Manson raised another suggestive eyebrow at him, as if expecting something. 

Trent didn’t need anymore prompting. He scrambled to unzip Manson’s pants again with his uncuffed hand, pulling his dick out quickly.

“Easy,” Manson said, holding onto Trent’s hair and pulling his head back a little.

Trent exhaled and started pumping his fist quickly, know that once Manson got off, he would be allowed to.

“Fuck,” He heard the other man groan from above him. 

Trent moved his head forward and teased his tongue over the tip, looking up through half lidded eyes. He imagined he looked absolutely disgraceful.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Manson gritted out between slightly clenched teeth.

Trent could sense he was close by the tightening grip on his hair. It had been quick, but torture really worked him up and soon he was spilling over Trent’s hand and onto his shirt over his chest.

Trent pumped his hand a few more times until he was sure there was nothing left and released.

Manson’s breathing was labored above him, tucking himself back into his pants as Trent fell back onto his heels.

“So good,” He praised, running a hand through Trent’s still-dripping hair. Manson took in the sight of Trent covered in his cum and piss and chuckled a little to himself.

“You can get yourself off now, baby…”

He turned to walk out of the bathroom, confusing Trent.

“Hey, what?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Manson hummed, turning to look back at him.

“I’m still cuffed.”

“Oh, I know… I said you were good… Not good enough,” he smirked, “Maybe you can sleep in the bed tomorrow night… If you behave.”

Trent was in disbelief, after EVERYTHING he had done...

“Night,” Manson cooed sweetly, shutting the door behind him.

Trent’s mouth hung open dumbly. He really wished he hadn’t been such a brat.


End file.
